


Breakfast (Or Lack Thereof)

by dragonwings948



Series: A Night on Darillium [5]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (or should I say failed breakfast), Breakfast, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s07e05 The Angels Take Manhattan, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I feel like I’m writing the same tags for every story, Kissing, Romance, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:18:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22380148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonwings948/pseuds/dragonwings948
Summary: The Doctor attempts to make River breakfast, but when mentions of Amy and Rory come up, the thought of breakfast gets thrown out the window as the Doctor tries to comfort River.
Relationships: The Doctor/River Song, Twelfth Doctor & River Song
Series: A Night on Darillium [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563853
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	Breakfast (Or Lack Thereof)

**Author's Note:**

> I made some pretty considerable changes to this one! You’ll notice that the POV is now the Doctor’s instead of River’s; it just felt more natural that way. 
> 
> By the way, this story picks up immediately where the last one left off, so reading the previous story first will make a bit more sense!
> 
> Enjoy! :D

It was a moment in time that the Doctor wanted to freeze. 

River’s curls were wild, her eyes still droopy from sleep, and her smile reminding him that she loved him. The Doctor looked up at her in wonder and happiness, glad beyond words that this was what she wanted, too: to spend twenty-four years with him. 

It wasn’t perfect; the Doctor couldn’t ignore the weight of fear in his gut as overwhelming feelings and sensations that were still new to him assaulted his brain. The fact that River’s fingers were threading through his hair started to make his hearts thump faster. His gaze drifted to her lips and—oh, no, he wasn’t becoming a kissing person, was he? And yet  _ he  _ was the one holding her flush against him so she had nowhere else to go. Part of him liked it. Another part of him was already running out the door screaming. 

River’s smile faded. Slowly, she untangled her hands from his hair. “I’ve lost you, haven’t I?” 

And the moment was shattered. By him. Of course. 

He tried to come up with a defense, but before he even knew what to say River was out of the bed and shaking out her hair. The Doctor sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. It seemed like he could never do something right without messing it all up seconds afterwards. 

“River.” 

She looked at him over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m just going to need time,” he said with a sigh. “I’m still adjusting. Imagine old feelings in a new body, a new personality.” 

River turned to face him and studied the carpet as she responded, “I don’t have to.” She met his eyes. “I understand, Doctor, I really do. I’m not upset; I just want to give you the space you need. I…” She breathed a sigh of vexation. “I don’t want to mess this all up by scaring you away.” 

The Doctor wanted to slap himself. Despite everything, she still didn’t trust him, and it was all his fault. He wanted her to be able to rely on him—not just when it came to saving the day, but when it came to being her husband. He had lied to her too many times, allowed her to spend too long wondering about his devotion to her. 

He wondered, not for the first time, if he could ever fully make amends. 

“You won’t scare me away,” he said, standing up and crossing the short distance to her. He settled his arm around her shoulders and drew her to his chest. “I made you a promise, River Song, and I’ll remind you every day until you believe it: twenty-four years, and not a day less.”

River’s hand found his and she squeezed his fingers. Her shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh. 

And then her stomach growled. 

They both chuckled and River extracted herself from him, though she kept his hand in hers and intertwined their fingers. She led them out of the room and into the TARDIS corridor, heading toward the kitchen.

“So,” the Doctor asked, “what do you want for breakfast?” 

River scoffed.  _ “You?  _ Cooking breakfast? What’ll it be, fish fingers and custard?” 

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “River, I’ve–”

_ “Trained with Julia Child,”  _ they said in unison. “I know, Doctor,” River continued, “but all the times you tried…”

“I’m different now. New body, remember?” 

They turned into an open doorway, and the sight of the kitchen he hadn’t frequented in so long made the Doctor stop short. A snippet of a memory pushed through the blockade and took over his mind. He could suddenly sense a small, shaking body in his arms, hear the sound of sobs trying to be repressed, feel the tears soaking through his shirt. 

_ “Clara.”  _

There was so much love and care in that voice—in  _ his  _ voice. The beast of frustration inside of him reared its head. He couldn’t remember the feelings associated with the memory, but he would give anything to.  _ Anything.  _

“Doctor?” 

He inhaled sharply and blinked, coming back to reality. River squeezed his hand tightly and the Doctor realised his fingers were shaking. He focused on her eyes, so filled with pity that it was almost tangible.

“My love,” she said gently, “tell me.” 

He shook his head. “Just memories, out of reach.”

She brushed her fingers along his cheek. “If there’s anything I can do…” 

He smiled at her as the memory faded from his mind. “You’re already doing it.” He slid his hand from hers and strode past her, further into the kitchen. “So. Breakfast.” He opened the refrigerator and glanced inside. “Eggs? Eggs are breakfast.”

River chuckled behind him. “Eggs would be lovely.” 

The Doctor grabbed the carton from the refrigerator, spun around to face the stove, and then frowned. He knew how to turn on a stove. He  _ knew  _ that he knew. Unless he had deleted it somewhere along the way…?

“New body, same Doctor,” River said as she grabbed the egg carton from his hands. She reached into a cupboard below the counter and grabbed a pan, setting it on the stove. After turning on the heat, she cracked four eggs into the pan. 

The Doctor watched her progress, finding it strange to see her doing something so... _ human.  _ “I didn’t think you’d have time to learn this sort of thing,” he commented.

In the middle of reaching for a nearby drawer, River paused and closed her eyes. “Dad,” she said quietly. A small smile formed on her lips. “I went to visit one morning, but Amy was gone; out with a friend or something. Rory made me eggs and we…we just talked.” 

The Doctor watched River’s hands fall to her sides. She blinked, and tears tracked their way down her cheeks. 

She hastily sniffed and wiped her arm over her eyes. “I’m fine,” she said, grabbing a spatula and poking at the eggs. But the Doctor could tell that she was still living in her memories. He reminded himself again that she had just come from Manhattan; it had taken him  _ years  _ to recover from that day, and yet here River was, as bold and confident as ever. He had accused her last night on the balcony. Even through a regeneration, it had hurt that she had refused to come with him when he needed her most. 

But now he was beginning to understand. And even if he never could, he knew that right now he couldn’t stand by and watch her suffer, whatever his feelings were. 

“You had to be strong for me,” he said gently. “That’s why you couldn’t come with me that day.” He reached out a hand toward her hesitantly, a little unsure as to how to comfort her. “It’s okay, River. They were your parents.”

More tears sprang from her eyes. She looked at him, and for a moment he saw Melody Pond, the broken girl who had been left behind in favour of the hardened, capable River Song.

“This time, let me be strong for you.” 

Completely foregoing his outstretched hand, River slammed into his chest, knocking the breath out of him. She buried her face in his shirt, her body trembling. The Doctor’s hearts broke at the sight and he pulled her close, feeling his own grief awaken again. He stroked her hair and sighed, seeing Amy’s tear-streaked face in his mind’s eye. It was something he hadn’t allowed himself to think of in a long, long time. 

It didn’t take River long to compose herself and lean back only enough to meet his eyes. “Thank you.” 

Before he hardly knew what he was doing, the Doctor reached out a hand to brush away River’s remaining tears with his thumb. He panicked, unsure of what to do next, but he told himself he wouldn’t freeze up this time. River  _ needed  _ him. 

Amusement shone in her eyes, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. She raised herself on her toes and met him halfway in a kiss. And then the Doctor did freeze up. What was he supposed to do next?

River laughed, breaking off the kiss. The Doctor frowned at her, wondering what was so funny. 

“Was that the right moment for that?” he asked. 

River shook her head with a grin and bounced up on her toes to kiss him again, plunging her fingers into his hair. The Doctor wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly against him, letting himself trust her as one kiss turned into two, then five, and then all he knew was River: her breath, her taste, the feel of her fingers tugging on his hair. Time passed by, and he didn’t mark it. Something in his mind tried to protest, but something else told it to sod off because he was currently snogging his wife. 

When River separated from him—only enough to rest her forehead against his—the Doctor felt like he was coming up from underwater, or waking up from a dream. His heartbeats raced in his ears. River’s face came into focus and he noted that she was smiling deviously. 

“Such a dull activity, don’t you think, Doctor?” 

He felt his lips forming into something like a smirk. He opened his mouth to reply, but that was when he smelled something burning. 

River’s eyes widened and the Doctor was sure that the same expression of panic had appeared on his face as well. In tandem they rushed the few steps to the stove, only to find the eggs charred and black, emitting a terrible smell. 

For a moment all the Doctor could do was stand there and stare. And then, in unison with River, he began laughing. 

“We’re time travellers,” the Doctor breathed in between fits of laughter, “two of the smartest people in the universe, and we can’t even make eggs.” 

His statement reinvigorated the laughter and it took them a few minutes to recover enough to tidy up the mess. As they did so, the Doctor thought that maybe it was time for a different kind of breakfast. Once everything was left they way they had found it, he took River’s hand and led her out of the kitchen.

“Where are we going?” River asked as they walked back down the corridor. 

“Breakfast.” The Doctor smiled as they entered the console room. He ran to the controls and started preparing the TARDIS for flight. 

River frowned at him from across the console. “We’re not actually… _ going  _ somewhere?” 

The Doctor grinned even wider. “Twenty-four years, but I never said we couldn’t pop off somewhere now and then.” 

River’s eyes condemned him, but a smile tugged at her lips. “That’s cheating.”

“That’s being a time traveler.” He pulled the final lever and the TARDIS launched into flight, rocking the room. River pressed a button on the console and the time and space machine became still and quiet. 

The Doctor frowned at her as the TARDIS landed. “Well that’s just no fun.” 

She smirked, but instead of continuing the age-old argument she asked: “Where are we?” 

He studied the readings, making sure the TARDIS had landed in the correct place. “Bath,” he said triumphantly, but as he continued reading he cast a disdainful look at the time rotor. 

River glanced over his shoulder. “Let me guess: right place, but not the right year or time of day.” She paused. “It’s three o’clock in the afternoon!” 

“She must have brought us here for a reason,” the Doctor insisted, unable to even think about revealing the fact that he might have miscalculated a little. 

“Right,” River replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She began walking back towards the corridors. “I’ll have to change.” She cast him a glance over her shoulder. “And so will you.” 

The Doctor looked down at himself, only just noticing his rumpled shirt and wrinkled trousers. “Oh.”

“It had better be something good,” River added as she resumed her pace. “We’re still on a date.”

The Doctor considered her words, frowned, and then followed after her.

“I don’t think that’s exactly what I meant by twenty-four years.”

“Oh, Doctor.” River turned and grinned at him. “I don’t think you really have a choice.” 

**Author's Note:**

> You’ll also notice that the next story is no longer Paris! As I started writing my Bath murder mystery story, I realised that there are a lot of things in it that continue the struggles that River and the Doctor are having in this story and the previous ones, so it sort of made more sense to put it next. The Paris story will come later! :)


End file.
